


restrain your voice from crying

by the_ragnarok



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caretaking, D/s overtones, Gags, M/M, Podfic Available, Relationship Negotiation, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period, apocalypse? not today, if holding your hand over someone's mouth counts as a gag, or extends those episodes i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23915251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: The apocalypse was averted, and now Martin watches over Jon when he feeds.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 39
Kudos: 437





	restrain your voice from crying

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fanart: The Magnus Archives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045671) by [LineCrosser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LineCrosser/pseuds/LineCrosser). 



> Many thanks to Mx_Carter for beta, Exmoose for handholding, and to Linecrosser for [the image which inspired this](https://linecrosser.tumblr.com/post/190984793911/statement-of-protection-statement-of-intervention).

Odd, how things change. Not so long ago, Jon snapping at Martin would have Martin stammering and flustered, backing away as fast as humanly possible. Back then, Jon's annoyance seemed like the worst possible outcome, the end of the world.

And then the world nearly did end, and here they are. 

It doesn't matter what Jon just said, low and scathing; not when Jon stumbles over his own apologies the moment he hears himself, not when Martin can hear what lies behind that futile anger. "You," Martin says, "need to eat and rest." He's not talking about the spaghetti marinara they've had for dinner, and they both know it.

Jon looks mutinous, on the verse of snapping again. Martin meets his gaze and wonders when he, himself, became this person: strong enough that the small hurts of Jon lashing out at him are bearable, almost beloved. Large enough to contain Jon's suffering, and transmute it into something better. 

A moment after their eyes meet, Jon deflates, head bowing. "Yes," he says, hoarse. "You're probably right."

Martin's definitely right, but now is not the time to lord that about. He sits down on the bed with his back to the headboard, legs spread, and pats the space between them. Jon fetches his statement and shuffles to sit with his back leaning against Martin's chest. 

Odd that these days, after Martin has seen Jon question a fear avatar to death and almost bring about the apocalypse, he seems small and fragile when once his presence filled entire rooms. Martin grieves how sad and lost Jon seems, even as he can't be sorry that he now gets to shield Jon. 

He wraps his arms around Jon's waist as he begins to read silently. Rests his forehead against Jon's nape, not looking at whatever fresh horror Jon is feeding on today. At least he's eating something. His vertebrae stick out, bony against Martin's face. As long as Jon makes no sound, that's all that's going to happen.

The silence doesn't last long.

"The pile of ashes," Jon says; only four words, but in the time it takes Martin to muffle Jon with his hand, those words burn themselves across his mind. They itch with the sick desire to _know_. 

That's okay. Martin's used to this, by now. 

Jon's struggling now, squirming in his lap. He's weak, can't shift Martin's hold at all, and it makes Martin ache for him. Damn it, he _wants_ Jon strong and well and whole. Even if neither of them wants what that would entail. 

But neither of them do, so now Martin has to be Jon's strength, the one who keeps him from widening the horrifying cracks in reality. Has to keep his hand tight over Jon's mouth, even as his heart beats furiously with the terror that he might choke Jon or hurt him. 

"It's okay," he whispers in Jon's ears, even though it's very much not. "I'm here. I won't let you go." That much, at least, is true. "I love you." As true a statement as he's ever made. He repeats those sentences, in slight variations, as Jon shakes and shudders until Martin fears he might break apart. 

The fit lasts longer than one would think Jon was capable of, to look at him. Martin worries that it _is_ more than he's capable of, Beholding drawing ruthlessly on Jon's dwindling energy in its ravenous hunger. He understands, much more thoroughly than he'd have preferred, why Jon delays and delays these feedings. Martin holds fast, holds _Jon_. 

When it's over, Jon crumples in his arms like he's made of tin foil. Martin keeps his arms around Jon, now steadying him rather than restraining him. "Shh," he whispers in Jon's ear. "Shh, it's over, you're alright." Jon leans back against Martin and doesn't try to speak.

As Martin gets them ready for bed, Jon finally says something. "Thank you," he says, in a quiet voice on the verge of breaking. 

Martin kisses him on the forehead. "Of course," he says, helplessly, instead of all the other things he can't say: _I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this. I'm glad I can._

As Martin climbs into bed, Jon looks at him like he can hear the words inside his head. Maybe he can. "This is hard on you," he says to Martin. "Isn't it."

"Hard on _me_?" Martin says, incredulous. Like _he's_ the one starving and falling apart.

"Well, yes." Jon stubbornly holds his gaze. Martin is struck with a pang of love for this silly, obstinate man. "You're the one who's still holding himself together and not losing his grip over every little thing."

"Starvation and cosmic horror are hardly little things," Martin points out. "I'm not going to complain when you've lost so much." 

Jon, who knows nearly everything, looks at Martin in incomprehension. 

Martin's too tired to be anything but blunt. "Taking care of you feels good. I don't mind that, and I never will. I remember how you used to be, and I wish you still had that for your sake, but me? I'm good."

Jon blinks. "The way I used to be?"

If Martin has to put that in words... "In charge. Used to be, I'd know immediately you were in a room when I got in. You had a, a presence." He swallows and makes himself admit, "I don't miss that, in and of itself. I just - you're not _well_ , and I wish you were. That's all."

For long moments, Jon says nothing. Martin calls himself a dozen names for dragging Jon into this conversation when he's already drained, when Jon says, "I don't think I ever felt in charge."

It's Martin's turn to blink. "Oh?"

Jon shakes his head. "I'd just - fluff myself up like a cat. I was _scared_ , Martin." He laughs quietly, mirthlessly. "Now at least I don't have to pretend I'm not." He covers Martin's hand in his. "Because I've got you to put the brave face on. And you deserve to be weak, too."

Martin snorts. "Trust me, I've had plenty of opportunity to be weak. Gonna be a while before I want that again." He turns his hand palm side up and squeezes Jon's, scooting close to kiss his head. 

"We can trade," Jon says. "I'm just saying."

"Doesn't sound like you want to."

"Well. I don't." The way Jon shifts in his arms is so different to earlier, for which Martin is thankful. "But I want you to know it's an option."

Martin holds him close. "Alright, noted. Now go to sleep, you impossible man."

Jon mutters something, but the indistinct words mush together into snores before Martin can make them out. Martin smiles and follows him into sleep. He can feel eyes watching him, and mentally flips them off. _Not today, assholes._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] restrain your voice from crying](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950411) by [olive2pod (olive2read)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2pod)
  * [[PODFIC] restrain your voice from crying](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23976706) by [FaintlyAudible (FaintlyMacabre)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaintlyMacabre/pseuds/FaintlyAudible)
  * [[Podfic of] restrain your voice from crying](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24034867) by [carboncopies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carboncopies/pseuds/carboncopies)




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